


Chocolate Chip

by urdnot_wrekt



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22274911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urdnot_wrekt/pseuds/urdnot_wrekt
Summary: Spreading a little Mass Effect Holiday Cheer!Hera Shepard has spent years protecting herself from reliving the painful memories of her past. But families come in all shapes and sizes, and so does love. Maybe things could start looking merry and bright again, after all...
Relationships: Javik/Female Shepard/Liara T'Soni
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Chocolate Chip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astraielle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraielle/gifts).



The fireplace crackled, each flicker of dancing flame casting an aureate glow across the walls of the living room. It was quiet in the apartment, at least for the time being, and Shepard was enjoying her temporary peace by sprawling out on the couch with her eyes closed and the overhead lights off. Even from across the room, the soothing heat of the fire warmed her eyelids and melted away the edges of dread she felt for the coming evening.

_Christmas,_ she thought to herself with a huff. _You really shat the bed this time._

She sat forward and sighed, her elbows bearing down on her knees as she rubbed the heels of her hands roughly against her eyes. Then, with another heavy sigh, she pushed herself up to her feet and looked around the apartment, appraising its holiday appeal…or, at present, lack thereof. No stockings hung with care, no wreath on the front door, no sparkling lights, and _certainly_ no goddamned Christmas tree.

All that would change, she knew, when Liara and Javik returned from their last-minute shopping spree.

“May as well have let Santa himself march in here and wreck the place,” she muttered to the empty room.

With a final, lingering gaze at the unadorned space around her, Shepard sighed again and traipsed off toward the kitchen. Her official duty for the evening, after firmly declining Liara’s invitation to join the other two on their quest for holiday décor, was to have dinner ready and waiting by the time they got back. Easy enough, she figured, since all she had to do was pop it in the oven and make sure it didn’t catch on fire.

She knelt down in front of the oven and gently pulled the door open enough to peek in. The scent of a well-seasoned roast immediately flooded her senses, making her mouth water in anticipation. Liara had spent all day marinating her creation, and it certainly smelled as though the hard work was paying off now. A pan of vegetables sizzling quietly on the rack below also seemed to be coming along nicely. She closed the oven door again and rose back to her feet, then leaned against the counter and took a moment to stretch out her neck and shoulders; she wasn’t surprised to find tension already creeping up her spine, but she imagined it would only get worse as the evening wore on and as her environment became more… _Christmas-y_.

In fact, there was one very Christmas-y thing in particular she had considered doing as a surprise for the others before they got back, but…she couldn’t quite bring herself to.

The decorations were one thing; she wasn’t thrilled about having her home temporarily turned into the North Pole, but she thought she would probably be able to handle the sight of it for a day or two. Or, at the very least, for Liara, she was willing to try. But when it came to that _other_ thing, well…she had learned a long time ago that a strong scent can bring back all kinds of memories you thought were long gone. Good, bad, or anywhere in between.

_‘Afraid’_ wasn’t really a word that felt too comfortable in Hera’s vocabulary, but she was concerned, to say the least, about what might get stirred up if she allowed herself to indulge in this little holiday fantasy of Liara’s.

Shepard walked over to the fridge and peered inside, surveying its contents while she considered her next step. She could feel her pulse beating steadily against the side of her neck (maybe faster than it had been a minute ago?) and noticed her toes tapping rhythmically against the tile floor. She stilled herself for a moment, closing her eyes to take a breath, and ran a hand back through her hair.

“Fuck it,” she announced, her words coming out as almost a growl.

She reached into the fridge and started grabbing a few ingredients at a time, setting them roughly onto the counter beside her. Next, she began opening cabinets, one after another, and digging hastily through them. Onto the counter she placed a wooden spoon, a couple of mixing bowls, a few dry ingredient containers, and a bottle of dark-colored liquor she didn’t ask questions about before opening it up and taking a gulp.

The warmth trickled down her throat and settled neatly into her stomach, gently loosening the coil of anxiety that had taken hold there, and she felt as ready as she would probably ever be.

After taking another quick sip, Hera set the bottle back down on the counter and got to work. She poured, mixed, added more ingredients, and mixed some more. Somewhere in the process she managed to spill flour all over the kitchen tile, and muttered obscenities under her breath as she put forth a half-assed attempt at cleaning it up. More of it ended up on her socks than in the trash, and she grumbled even louder at the smudged white footprints she now left behind every time she took a step.

She dug around in another cabinet and found two baking sheets, quickly filling them with small scoops of dough arranged in uncharacteristically neat lines. Then she turned on the heat to the kitchen’s second oven (a luxury she had derided on its first discovery those many months ago), waited a few seconds for it to rise to the appropriate temperature, and slid the cookies in.

Before she had a chance to even sigh in relief, the front door flew open.

“We’re home!” Liara called brightly.

Shepard gathered her dirty dishes and tossed them noisily into the sink on her way out toward the living room, where she found Liara and Javik each holding a few large shopping bags.

“Not all of these items were on the shopping list,” Javik announced as she walked into the room.

“Boy, he threw you _right_ under the bus,” she said to Liara, offering a reluctant smile and taking the bags from her hands. “Where do you want these?”

“He’s mostly telling on himself,” Liara chuckled, “though I know you won’t believe it. Those can go over by the bar, for now. But no peeking!”

“Wouldn’t dare,” Shepard replied.

She carried the bags over to the bar and set them down, resisting the slight temptation she felt to peek inside. Whatever was in them, she was sure she’d find out soon enough, whether she wanted to or not. With a sigh, and a quick reminder of how much she loved the person she was tolerating all of this for, she turned to head back toward the living room.

And was promptly met with the distinct smell of something burning.

“Oh, _shit,_ ” she whispered as she ran the few steps over to the kitchen.

She threw open the oven to find their roast beginning to smoke, and pulled the whole thing out in a panic, leaving it to continue smoldering on the counter as she desperately tried to assess the damage. The good news was that the _whole_ thing wasn’t burnt to a crisp; the entire roast was darker than it should have been, but only about a third of it was charred black and smoking.

“Everything okay out there?” Liara called to her.

Hera yanked open a drawer and grabbed the first knife she could find.

“Yeah,” she grunted, digging the blade into one of the ravaged sections. “Just…carving the roast.”

She chopped away at the darkest parts of their dinner, hoping it would be enough to save what was left. Her expectations weren’t high, of course, but she hated to think how upset the other two would be if their holiday meal got ruined on her watch. With a shake of her head, and another burst of grumbled obscenities, she went back to the oven to fetch the tray of vegetables, angrily slamming the pan down onto the countertop when she realized they had come out unscathed.

“Of course. The fucking _side dish_ makes it out alive _._ ”

The rustle of bags being unpacked and decorations being placed around the apartment drifted innocently out to where she stood, and she felt her frustration cool to a simmer when she heard Liara and Javik happily laughing together about something as they worked. It reminded her to check on the cookies, and she did, finding, much to her relief, that they had not burnt. But when the smell of them hit her, the lump that formed in her throat was almost instantaneous.

She quickly closed the oven door and reached up into the cabinets to retrieve dinnerware and start preparing to serve their meal.

“Food’s ready,” she called, clearing her throat when her voice briefly faltered. “Go sit at the table and I’ll bring it in.”

“Do you need help?”

“No. No, I’ve got it. Just grab a bottle of wine and some glasses on your way over.”

For a few seconds, she held her breath and listened to the sounds of footsteps crossing from the living room over to their dining table in the bar area. The quiet clink of wine glasses being placed on the table, and the gentle pop of a bottle, probably Liara’s favorite red, being uncorked. She slowly released the air in her lungs and swallowed carefully around the burning sensation in her throat.

Shepard turned to the plates on the counter and began arranging vegetables on each one before sliding them over toward what remained of the roast. On second glance, it looked even worse than she had initially thought, but there was nothing left for her to do about it now. She picked up the knife and carved off three slices of what looked to be the least burnt, least dry portions, although she admitted the standard was pretty low by that point. Then, with a final shake of her head, she placed each one next to the vegetables on their respective plates. It would have to do, she figured.

Before leaving the kitchen, she removed the trays of cookies from the oven and set them on the counter to cool. And the scent struck her again; sweet, comforting, the smell of…

Hera’s breath caught in her chest, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight to block out the encroaching memory. Her heart dropped like an anvil into her stomach, sending a wave of chills rippling across her skin, and before she knew it, she felt her feet beginning to carry her swiftly out of the kitchen. She didn’t know where she was going except _away_ , and she didn’t open her eyes until she heard the front door burst open only a few mere inches in front of her face, nearly wiping her out where she stood.

“Hey, fuckers! We’re-”

At the sight of Shepard, Jack’s words died in her throat. It took only a split second for her to assess the expression on her friend’s face, recognize it, and snap into action. She turned to look behind her, where Kasumi stood holding a neatly wrapped present, and muttered, “Go be a distraction,” then put her hand on Hera’s shoulder and gently but firmly pushed her down the hall to the bathroom.

Inside, with the door closed, she guided Shepard down to a seated position on the floor and then sunk down next to her. Shepard fixed her gaze intently on a line of grout separating two of the floor tiles under her feet, noticing a slight imperfection in the uniformity, but even without looking at Jack, she could sense that she was being closely observed. After a moment, Jack spoke to her.

“Need to hit something?” she asked.

Hera shook her head.

“Mm,” Jack nodded, turning her own gaze down to the floor. “One of _those_.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds, and then Jack draped her arm around Shepard’s shoulders and leaned into her, falling back into a position the two of them had found themselves in countless times throughout the course of their friendship. The first time, Jack had woken up the entire ship screaming from a nightmare, and Shepard had shrugged off an elbow to the face to get close enough to calm her down. The next, Shepard’s suit took a hit on a mission, and Jack was the only one who could convince her she wasn’t going to suffocate (again). After that, it became their unspoken role. Somehow, they always managed to show up just when the other needed them. And they understood each other on a level few others did.

“So…what did it?” Jack asked after a minute.

Hera turned her head to look at her friend for the first time since she’d walked in.

“Cookies,” she said quietly. And then, almost as if hearing the word had broken its hold over her in some way, she started to smile.

Jack echoed it back to her.

“ _Cookies?_ ” she asked, shaking her head. “I should’ve known, those sugary little fucks.”

She grinned, then turned her eyes back to the floor, waiting. Beside her, she heard Shepard let out a rough chuckle, followed by a sigh that she would have missed if she hadn’t been listening for it so intently. And then, after another moment, Shepard started to slowly push herself up to her feet.

“Ready to get back out there?” Jack asked.

Hera took a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure? ‘Cause, if not, I have no problem telling Liara you’re holding my hair back while I spew my drunken guts all over your shiny bathroom.”

She reached a hand out for Shepard to pull her up off the floor, and as she stood, she saw her friend deliver a decisive nod in her direction.

“I’m sure.”

They walked out of the bathroom together and turned toward the living room, making their way to the kitchen. Calmer now, with her eyes open and her focus restored, Shepard couldn’t help noticing the array of sparkling decorations greeting them both as they walked down the short hallway to the open expanse of the room.

Three red stockings, surprisingly plain, each bearing only an embroidered _L_ , _H_ , or _J_ , hung over the fireplace. Draped casually over the ledge above was a vine of lush greenery, peppered with colorful lights and the twinkle of glitter, and beside it, a small tree that stood no more than a foot tall. The tree boasted a few lights of its own, and a handful of modest ornaments, but was overall far less grandiose than Shepard had feared when Liara initially suggested having a Christmas celebration.

The only additional decoration in the room was a string of brightly colored lights spanning the top of the windows, lit solidly, with no blinking or other extravagance. Hera spent a few more seconds looking around the rest of the room, trying to spot anything she might have missed, but found only a few empty shopping bags.

“Tasteful, huh?” Jack remarked, sounding almost proud.

“Surprisingly.”

Jack shrugged and patted Shepard on the back.

“She called me,” she said. “Wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be too much.”

The thought made Shepard smile, and she briefly felt a bit guilty for assuming Liara would have wanted to plan a big, boisterous holiday evening instead of something more considerate of Shepard’s comfort. She turned to Jack.

“Is that why you’re here?” she asked.

“Nah,” Jack replied with a smile. “I’m here for the free food.”

With a low chuckle and a shake of her head, Shepard made her way over to the kitchen, Jack following closely behind. She reached up into the cabinets to grab a couple of extra plates for their two guests, and heard Jack remark behind her,

“What in the goddamn hell did you do to that roast, you _monster_?”

“Shut up. It’ll be fine.”

“If not, I have an extra shoe you can plate up instead. I doubt anyone will notice.”

Hera glared over at her and sliced off two more sad pieces of dark, dry meat. She picked the worst of the two, put it on a plate, and handed it to Jack.

“That’s yours.”

“Bitch,” Jack laughed, punching her in the shoulder before grabbing two other plates and turning to head for the bar.

Shepard followed with the remaining servings and carried them out to the table, gingerly setting one down in front of each person before finally making her way over to the empty chair left for her.

“Everything okay?” Liara asked as she took her seat.

“Yeah, all good.”

She felt Liara grab her hand under the table and give it a quick squeeze, and turned to meet her eye with a smile.

“Well, Shep,” Kasumi said from across the table, “are you going to say a few words, or should we just dig in?”

Hera looked around the table, stopping for a moment on each person; these were some of the most important people in her life, and here they were, all gathered together around a dinner table at Christmastime. If anyone had told her a few months ago that she would willingly celebrate a holiday of _any_ kind, let alone _Christmas_ , she never would have believed it. But here she found herself, nonetheless. And she couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone else.

She cleared her throat and spoke.

“I’ll keep it short, but…I just want to say…I’m really glad to have all of you here tonight.”

She raised her glass in the air, and the others followed, catching each other’s eyes for a nod or a smile. Shepard may have kept her toast brief, but the sentiment wasn’t lost on any of them; they loved her, too, and they were happy to spend the famous human holiday with their family.

After everyone had picked up their utensils and started to eat, out of the corner of her eye Hera noticed Liara giving her plate a look of skepticism that would have been highly entertaining if it hadn’t been a result of Shepard’s lack of attention in the kitchen. She watched Liara cut a bite off of the roast, raise it to her lips and chew for a while, then casually make a grab for her wine glass and begin to wash it down with an impressively large gulp.

“In my cycle,” Javik stated from his seat on Liara’s other side, “it was considered undesirable to consume food that had been left to cook for too long.”

Before he had even finished speaking, Liara snorted into her glass so forcefully that the crimson-colored liquid inside splashed out onto the table, ran down her chin, and dripped all over her plate of food.

“Aw, now look,” Jack said, pointing to Liara’s plate, “you’ve ruined a perfectly good roast!”

For a second, their eyes met in complete silence, and then the whole table erupted in laughter. Even Hera couldn’t resist a smile of her own, at first of feigned annoyance, quickly turning into genuine amusement when Liara set her glass back down on the table and looked over at her with spots of wine still splattered across her cheeks and forehead, and dribbling down from her lips.

“Shepard,” she laughed, nearly out of breath and with tears beginning to form in the corner of her eyes, “what did you _do_?”

“I got distracted,” Hera answered simply. She let out a brief chuckle in spite of herself; seeing everyone in such high spirits was alarmingly contagious.

She reached for the napkin in front of her and tossed it playfully at Liara as she stood up from the table and started to walk out of the room.

“I’ve still got that shoe if you need it!” Jack called as she went.

Without even a backward glance, she threw both middle fingers up in the air on her way to the kitchen, smiling at the sound of Jack’s laughter coming from behind her. Then, with a decisive, deep breath in, she looked across the kitchen at the tray of cookies and took the final steps to the counter in front of them. She closed her eyes, letting the scent hit her and breathing it back out between her lips. And she heard the sound of quiet footsteps approaching from behind her, followed by arms wrapping around her waist and a chin resting against the back of her shoulder.

“Sorry about your roast,” Shepard said quietly. “I’m sure it would have been delicious.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Liara answered. She gently grabbed Hera by the hips and turned her around to speak face-to-face. “Are you upset?”

Hera shrugged.

“A little pissed at myself, but I’ll get over it. I’m hoping I can smooth everyone over with these.”

She leaned over a little to give Liara a clear view of the cookies, and watched her eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Are those…?”

“Chocolate chip cookies. My, uh…” She paused, feeling the frustratingly familiar burning sensation creep back into her voice. Her intention was to clear her throat and finish her sentence before Liara noticed anything was amiss, but the expression on her face, however subtle, gave her away. Her gaze met Liara’s, and she found such concern staring back at her that it made her eyes sting. So, she closed them, and reached out to Liara in another way.

As Liara welcomed Shepard’s consciousness into her own, she felt a wave of memory looming before them. She could sense the despair at the base of it, and the paralyzing fear of being swept away. When she took Shepard’s hand, the images washed over her like a flood.

_She’s young. Only a few years old. Sitting on the counter, with her hands stuck deep into a bowl of dough. Her mother, laughing, pulls her hands out of the bowl, and wipes them clean with a towel. Kisses her on the forehead._

_Now, a few years older. Standing at the kitchen counter, a wooden spoon in her hand. She can barely reach the bowl to mix, but her mother leans down to hold it for her. She smears a dab of cookie dough on the tip of her nose and laughs._

_Older still. Bits of her mother creeping into her eyes, her smile. She looks proud, finally old enough to put the cookies in the oven herself. Across the room, her mother watches, smiling. She closes the oven door and smiles back._

_A teenager now. She leans against the kitchen counter, pretending not to be interested. Watches her mother stir the dough. Takes a step closer, dips her finger into the bowl. Her mother looks at her, raises an eyebrow, and hands her the spoon. She takes it and begins to stir. Her mother kisses her on the forehead and whispers, “Merry Christmas.”_

Liara could feel the pain radiating out from her own heart just as it pulsed through Shepard’s, almost crippling in its intensity. Each memory interwoven with the scent of chocolate melting and sugary dough baking, and overlaid with the deafening ache of loss. She opened her eyes to find Shepard watching her closely, her own eyes red and shimmering.

“My mom and I made cookies together every Christmas morning,” Hera said, locking eyes meaningfully with Liara. “We made them for our family.”

Liara looked over at the trays of cookies on the counter, the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink, the flour footprints tracked across the floor, and softly, she smiled up at her.

“And you made these for us.”

Shepard responded by pulling her in against her chest, wrapping her in a hug that said more than words could. After a moment, Liara leaned up to deliver a light kiss to Hera’s lips, then pulled back slowly. With Shepard’s eyes still on her, she grabbed a cookie and took a bite. Almost immediately, her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned dramatically against Shepard.

“Goddess, that’s delicious,” she whispered. “Must we share them?”

Shepard nudged her playfully with her shoulder and grabbed the two trays.

“Yes,” she chuckled, “we _must_.”

With a disappointed sigh, Liara followed her out to the dining table, pausing on her way to place her half-eaten cookie in Javik’s mouth mid-sentence while he spoke to Kasumi. He turned to her with a bemused expression, then took a bite and began to chew.

“Shep, you baked us _cookies_?” Kasumi gasped. She reached out and took one in each hand, taking the first bite and letting her head fall back against the back of her chair in delight. “This may be the best chocolate chip cookie I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.”

“Ah,” Javik said as he chewed, “I understand now; the first course was meant to be humorous, and now the meal begins.”

Jack stifled a laugh as she snatched a handful of cookies off of the tray Shepard held in front of her, but she was surprised to see her shake her head and smile in amusement.

“No, it wasn’t a joke,” Shepard corrected, “I’m just trying to make up for it with something better.”

“In that case, you have succeeded.”

She chuckled, handing him another cookie.

“Thanks, Javik.”

After the cookies had been distributed, leaving only a few remaining on the tray for herself, she grabbed one and returned to her seat next to Liara. All around her, her loved ones talked and laughed, chewed euphorically on cookies she had made for them, drank together, and enjoyed each other’s company in a way the holidays were especially skilled at eliciting. And even though the pain and guilt of loss still hung heavy around her heart, she realized that this feeling was one she had desperately missed. She was still grateful that their gathering was small, and the decorations modest, but she also found herself grateful for the chance to remember. And for the chance, perhaps, to make new memories.

She looked over to Javik, catching his eye amidst Jack and Kasumi reenacting a dramatized version of Shepard burning their dinner. Then she looked to Liara and met her gaze as well.

“Merry Christmas,” she said quietly.

“Merry Christmas,” Javik responded with a nod.

Liara smiled and reached over to take her hand.

“Merry Christmas, Shepard,” she said. Then she dropped her voice to a whisper. “And we love you, too.”

Shepard looked down at the cookie in her hand and smiled, feeling her cheeks begin to grow warm as love bloomed in her chest. She thought of her family, new and old, and closed her eyes.

And she took a bite.


End file.
